Dear Jen,
I can call you Jen right? I mean out of all the celebrity moms out there, you seem the most down to earth and approachable.
The
photos I see of you in US Weekly, are usually of you doing normal mom things like taking your kids to ballet or actually playing with them at the park. I like to think that if I ran into you in some weird hypothetical situation that we could dispense with all the awkwardness that is talking to random moms on the playground and actually have a nice discussion about raising children. Not sure if that would happen with say, Angelina or Gwyneth.
I will say that I feel like we have a little bit of a connection. You married a tall, dark-haired man, who seems highly devoted to the ladies in his life, and with the exception of that other Jennifer/Bennifer/Gigli time period, really seems like a guy who has his head on straight. My husband and I both enjoyed
The Town with Ben and that guy from the
Hurt Locker. Armageddon never fails to tug at my heart strings either.
My boyfriend is back--indeed.
And like my husband, Ben said that he knew girls and was a good father to them.
"I would have thought [he wanted a boy]. At first...I really thought so," the Arthur actress told Jay Leno
in January. "And then [Ben] kind of said, 'Well, we have girls. We know
how to do girls. My girls love me. I'm the big guy in the house.' So,
now I'm not sure."
Oh Ben.
Granted, I never had and will never have that kick-ass bod you sported in your
Alias days, but we are both women in our 30's who sport a lot of jeans and t-shirts and who have three kids. More specifically, two girls and a little boy.
So, let me stop right here and congratulate you on the birth of your
baby boy. I have been scouring
usweekly.com for name confirmation and was happy to see that he is named Samuel and not Siren or Sailor or some other equally ridiculous nautical-themed name.
But what I really want to address here is some advice that I wish some of my moms of boys would have doled out earlier. Like me, I can only imagine you have lived the last few years adrift in a sea of pink princesses and glitter. Your girls may be all about ballet and crafts or even if they love cars and football, I guarantee you they never spend a great deal of time with their hands down their pants.
I have blogged before about
Poo Foot and Other Daily Disasters, but what my moms of boys forgot to inform me of is that in addition to numerous instances of poo foot, that poo hand occurs so frequently that you will soon find yourself holding down your precious baby boy's arms, while Ben frantically tries to wipe him clean before he wriggles free and goes for his junk, again--only to have his hands, and anything else he can come in contact with, covered in poop.
Ah, the joys of raising a boy.
I guess I knew to expect that there would be some serious hand to the balls time. I like to remind QT when he reaches down to check things out that it is indeed, still there. However, I didn't realize that there would be so much hand to the balls to the poop to the sheet and the changing table and the pj's...well you get my point. Consider yourself warned.
So, Jen, again I offer you congratulations. Enjoy every moment of these early days. Give your ladies big kisses and congratulate them on being big sisters. Inform them often to NOT get so close to his face and scream, and be mindful that at some point soon, you will find glitter all over Samuel and possibly your boobs.
Tell Ben I said "hi" and give him props on his
Eastern Congo Initiative.
Yours in all things lovely little ladies and beautiful baby boys,
Bean
